Lucius' Fate
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: Set after Gladiator, Lucius is kidnapped and sold into slavery.this is about his journey through rough times and the Hardships he has to endure.
1. Chapter 1

Rome was lost, the line of emperors was crumbling, Rome was turning into a democracy, and little by little, and new age was begun.

When Maximus killed the emperor in the arena, The former general had full intentions of giving up all power he would receive, and giving it to the people, something that Marcus Aurelius only dreamed of, but due to an untimely end, never saw it fulfilled.

There was only one thing that stood in the way of a new peace.

The last Caesar.

Lucius Verus, son of the emperor's sister, and rightful heir to the throne of Rome.

In the dark of the night, when nobody could hear, dark assassins snuck into the palace, murdering the queen, and taking her child.

Not once was he missed.

Not one soul knew he was gone.

Because he simply disappeared, torn from all he loved and thrown on a slave ship bound across the Mediterranean for Algeria.

Lucius woke up, tired, confused and aching all over. Where was he?

He remembered going to bed, then nothing.

"The little weevil's awake" a burly looking pirate yelled across the deck of a rather exotic looking ship, nothing like the ones that Lucius' father had taken him to see in the coastline ports of Italy.

"Here's some gruel, little bug" the pirate said, pushing a bowl of some gross-looking substance to him.

"I'm not eating that" Lucius replied.

Didn't they have something better?

"Then you'll starve!" the pirate yelled in his face, throwing the bowl of weak soup all over him, soiling the robe he wore.

The pirates roared with laughter.

One of the men walked over to him to grab the empty bowl, and noticed the gold pendant he had on his neck.

"Eh? the little weevil's got gold on 'im!"

With those words, the pirates deluged upon him, tearing his clothes off, and grabbing at all his valuables.

the pirates clustered on the other side of the ship, fighting over the small treasures they had plundered from the roman boy.

Now Lucius realized he was completely naked, they had taken his robe as well, leaving him comlpetely naked.

_'Dear god'_ he thought. _'It is unheard of to strip a Royal's clothing'_ but then again, he wasn't home, was he?

"what am i supposed to wear?" he asked the pirates. one of them looked over and threw him a piece of cloth.

_"what on earth is this?" _it looked like some sort of undergarment, like a slave would wear.

Is that all he was?

A slave?

Lucius slipped it on, trying to ignore the scratchy feel of the fabric.

"Why am I not in Rome?" he asked.

"Cause you're nothing but a stupid, dirty little slave boy!" the biggest man said, making the pirates bellow in laughter again.

They had finished squabbling, and his beautiful clothes lay in a tattered heap.

"Look at him, Crying for his mommy" it was then that Lucius realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks, mostly ones of anger, but a few of sadness mixed in.

He slowly stood up, quaking with anger.

"Oh look, is his mommy dead? Is she nothing but a whore?"

then Lucius' mind blanked out.

He leaped at the pirate and punched him as hard as he could.

The man was strong, but Lucius unleashed a fury upon him that no one had seen the likes of in an eleven-year old boy, and it scared them.

Lucius was beating another man when a voice interrupted.

"Enough" it was a short man, dressed in the Arab fashion; he looked very well off, considering the ample belly on him.

"All of you, back to work" and with that, the pirates dispersed, leaving Lucius staring at his now bloody hands.

"You too" the man waved at him with a perfumed hand.

Lucius stood his ground, haveing no idea what he was suppose to be doing anyway.

"Did you hear me? You are to go to your duties, or I'll have you flogged!"

Now, Lucius knew what flogging was, but they wouldn't dare whip him would they?

Apparently they would, because in a few minutes time, he was thrown against the mast, and tied securely.

"I will not have disobedience on my ship" the short man said, strutting about like a rooster.

_'A perfect nickname for him' _Lucius thought.

Now the whole crew was on deck and the boy could practically feel their bloodlust piercing him like a thousand knives.

Then the crack of the whip rang out, and the skin on his back felt like it was stabbed by a bolt of fire.

This repeated ten times, and at the end, Lucius was crying hard.

Then the crowd was dismissed and he was thrown below decks, falling down the steep stairs, the porthole being locked behind him.

The deck ran the length of the ship, and was filled with many barrels and crates.

Still sniffling, Lucius crawled to the very back, in hopes that no one would come looking for him.

Now he felt the pain, not just the physical pain, this was a new kind of pain, and it hurt his heart most of all.

Why had his mother let this happen?

He had seen Commodus' death, he had even been a little pleased, but Lucilla should have been given the rights of empress, and him emperor after her.

He gently touched the now drying blood on his back, wincing at the contact.

He had never been punished this brutally before, never even handled roughly.

Maybe if he shut his eyes, this would all go away, and he would wake up in his bed, with his mother waking him in time for his morning lessons.

As Lucius fell asleep aboard the little ship,

He knew.

Deep within his heart.

That he would never.

Ever.

See his mother again.

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-Dark Knight's Revenge


	2. Chapter 2

When Lucius woke up, he thought he was back in his bed in the palace, like it had all been a very bad dream, but his reality came back to him quickly.

He was cold, tired, hungry, and the loincloth he had on scratched uncomfortably at his skin.

He realized that it was the first time he had ever experienced these emotions, seeing as the palace had plently of warmth and many slaves to feed and dress him.

The beatings he had received the day before still angered him, but the lingering pain was the most injuring of all.

Right about now, he would gladly eat anything this ugly squabbling band of pirates gave to him, even if it was a leather sandal.

He gasped at the sudden light streaming down from the now open hatch.

He could hear the pirate's boots stomping down the steep wooden steps, how they managed to get down them with their large girth was beyond him, but somehow they did.

"Get up little weevil, we're almost at port" when he did not move, one of the pirates grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him at the stairs.

Lucius slammed into steep steps painfully, but scrambled up with only a little whimper.

Lucius blinked fiercely after coming into contact with the blinding sunlight, he had no idea how long he had been in the cargo hold but it had been long enough.

The salty air stung the wounds on his bare back, but in a way, felt good.

"Look over there little bug" the pirate who had thrown him up the stairs said.

"That's the coastline town of Zucchabar, that's where we're headed. At least, we're headed to pub, you're headed to the slave market!" the pirate guffawed, and then returned to his work, still chuckling slightly at his own joke.

When they reached port, Lucius was pushed ahead of the captain, so that everyone would know that he was a slave.

The marketplace was busy and smelly.

Animals ran free, and people yelled at each other and the passing by, trying to sell their goods before they went bad with the heat of the sun.

Lucius was pushed over to a group of men under a canopy and made to sit.

"Ah! Kasim, I have a slave for you, he is Roman, but should do nicely" the pirate captain had to yell over the hustle and bustle, but still the slave tender managed to hear him.

Kasim the slave tender walked over to Lucius, pinched his arm to feel for muscle, and then turned away in disgust.

"Why would I want him? He is nothing but bones!" with that, the pirate captain got very angry, apparently not used to people turning him down.

He grabbed the slave tender by the arm.

"You will take the slave. I am being paid handsomely to get rid of him," he said, then turned around as gracefully as a fat little man could in a crowded space and left.

"You don't look like much, but maybe Macoro would want you for something eh?" the slave tender said, poking the boy with a stick.

"Stop it" Lucius said, shoving the stick away.

The Roman boy was in a right temper, he was in a foreign country, hungry, tired, and his body temperature was excessively high.

Kasim rapped him on the head with the stick, earning a grunt of pain from the boy.

"You'd do well to mind your manners well in Macoro's presence, he rules just about everything in these parts, so you had better watch your tongue little beetle"

And with that, he moved away.

'What was with everyone calling him bug names? He wasn't that tiny. He was normal sized for an eight year old boy.'

"Nine" he reminded himself.

He had turned nine the day he was kidnapped.

He thought back to what his mother had planned, a visit to the coast where they would have a picnic, and she would give him something.

He thought it was going to be a sword.

Pity he would never have it now.

He would cut down these stupid pirates and slave gatherers and then Macoro.

"Stupid Macoro" he said.

"You don't want to be callin' Macoro names boy" a slave said.

"He'll kill you without a thought" Lucius' nine-year-old rebelliousness surfaced.

"I don't care. If I had a sword I'd run him through" the slave chuckled.

"A little weevil like you? You'd hardly hurt a fly"

The slave replied. Then another broke in.

"I heard he took out Samson! That big brute on Tariff's ship!" the slave looked at Lucius in astonishment.

"This tiny boy? This boy had beaten the biggest and ugliest pirate of them all?"

"Is this true boy?" Lucius looked down at the dirt on his bare feet and nodded.

"Well I'll be" the elderly man replied as he sat back against the post of the canopy they were under.

"I would have liked to see that"

---

The day grew hotter and hotter as it wore on, Soon Lucius was covered in sweat, causing his breechcloth itch uncomfortably and make him long even more for the luxurious bathhouses in the palace back in Rome.

As the market started to empty around midday, a procession was seen coming through the street.

It was composed of a litter bearing a man carried by four slaves, then more servants behind it.

The elderly slave leaned over to whisper in Lucius' ear.

"They say that Macoro's a big, tall man. And anyone who looks in his eyes has fear instantly struck into their heart"

The slaves were made to stand in a line under the canopy, Lucius sticking out like a sore thumb because of his height.

The litter was set down, and the shortest and fattest man Lucius had ever seen stepped out.

"This was the great Macoro?". He thought, trying to hold back a giggle at the man's short stature.

Macoro strutted among them like a peacock, holding his head high, followed by two scantily clad women in veils and ornate sandals.

He pinched the slave's arms for their muscle mass, then gestured the ones he wanted to follow the litter.

When he saw Lucius, he laughed. "You try to dupe me Kasim?" he said to the slave tender.

"N-no sir, Tariff brought him, said you would have a use for the boy and that he was paid handsomely to get rid of him"

Macoro shrugged and pinched the boy's arm. Lucius was sick and tired of people pinching him, and the cross yelp of

"Ow" escaped before he could stop it.

His face was met with a slap in an instant.

"The boy has courage, but needs to know how to hold his tongue," Macoro said, turning around to face Kasim.

"I shall give you four thousand for all of them" Kasim almost fell over in shock.

"O-only four thousand sire? For twenty good slaves and a midget?" Macoro walked past him.

"You will accept the amount I give you," Kasim grumbled, but accepted the money.

As the litter left, the slaves were made to follow, their hands bound with twine to keep them from running away.

"Not that you'll go anywhere" the overseer said.

"Macoro's palace is in Libya, In the middle of the Sahara, two week's journey from here,"

Lucius groaned, two weeks of walking on hot sand, joy.

---

Macoro's caravan set out through Algeria, weaving their way through towns until they reached to very edge of the country.

Here they got into the dune terrain.

They traveled by night since it was too hot during the day.

By noontime, it could get well over 120 degrees easily, the fine sand turning into a scorching mass of fire.

They were only about a week from the palace when the first slave dropped.

The overseers made sure there were no signs of life, then left him where he lay.

Lucius was sickened to see it was his friend, the elderly slave, left to be taken by the desert.

After that, more slaves were lost each day, most succumbed to the heat, others to lack of water.

By the time they got to Macoro's palace, there were only Eleven out of the original twenty-one they started out with.

Ten slaves had died on the Journey.

Ten.

Lucius prevailed, but that was mostly because the other slaves took pity on him and shared the precious water and food they got when the stopped for the day.

The slaves were given meager rations, simple bread and water, but after a day's march, no one cared what they ate, as long as it was enough to partially fill their stomachs.

One day, when they had stopped at an Oasis and were waiting in line for their supper, Lucius heard the guards making bets about how long he would last.

"He won't make the last few days" one said.

"He won't make tomorrow" another replied

Lucius felt the same white-hot rage that had overcome him on the pirate ship.

The guards laughed at him, watching him shake in anger.

Then, Lucius sprang at the first guard, punching his face so that his lip split, then he got to the second one, who's nose broke under his hand.

"Enough" a voice said, Macoro stepped out of the shadows where he had been watching.

"Five lashes for the boy"

Lucius cried as he was tied to one of the Date trees surrounding the camp, the tears stinging his sunburnt skin.

'I am not a slave, I am not a slave, I am not a slave' He thought to himself.

Then, Lucius pictured his hero, the great Gladiator Maximus, who had killed his mad uncle Commodus and ended his tyranny.

That great man wouldn't cry under these circumstances.

To his surprise, the tears stopped streaming down his cheeks.

The overseer gave the lashes to him, each one stinging the already raw flesh.

The blood was dripping down his back, but he managed to stand, and get back in the Supper line with the other slaves.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

The little town owned by Macoro came in sight around twilight the next day.

As the caravan reached the gates, it turned out that the city was quite a bit bigger than expected.

There was a large marketplace, surrounded by houses and stables; even a bathhouse that made Lucius' mouth water.

With all the new sights around, Lucius had completely forgotten about his fatigue, and now he was looking alertly at all the people going back and forth.

About ten yards across, the marketplace square was definitely the crowning piece; servants, merchants, yard slaves, entertainers, Eunichs, ladies, and many other people Lucius couldn't find names for walked, danced, sat or ran through, dogs and cats following.

They somehow managed to force their way through , then stared in jaw-dropping awe as they were met with the sight of Macoro's palace.

The whole thing was made out of white sandstone with columns and carved Arabic runes running all the way along the sides of the walls.

Great stairs led the way to the giant oak doors in the front.

The slaves were led around the back, then taken through a large door to a cool underground passageway.

Here, they were made to sit.

Lucius sighed and rested his head against the cool stone wall.

The sun had been merciless to his skin; it was severely burnt in some places and peeling in others. He licked his sore and cracked lips, wincing as the salt stung them.

What he wouldn't give for some water to cool his aching throat.

After a while, the guards herded the little group of slaves down a long corridor, leading them through the maze of winding underground tunnels.

Lucius tried to remember the way they came, but there were too many things to remember, and he soon lost track. How on earth had Macoro built this place?

After what seemed like hours of walking, the group of slaves came to a dungeon of sorts.

They were led down the rows of cells, some empty, some not.

The guards shoved the rest of the slaves into the largest cell they had, but grabbed Lucius by the scruff of his neck before he could get in the cell.

"Not you, little bug, Macoro wants you somewhere else." Lucius inwardly groaned, this couldn't be good.

He was led back through some passageways then into a room with a tile floor.

The guard left, and Lucius was deluged upon by slaves.

One dumped cold water over his head making him splutter then began to rub his scalp fiercely, checking for bugs no doubt.

The others began to scrub his body and then took off his loincloth, much to his dislike.

After he was scrubbed down, the slaves left leaving Lucius standing there, completely naked and starting to shiver in the cool air of the chamber.

Then, another slave came back, Toweled him down, and then giving him a pair of roman sandals, a slave bracelet, and to both his dismay and relief; a new loincloth.

Lucius slipped on the dark blue garmet, relishing the soft, warm cotton. It was definitely better than the scratchy brown one the pirates had given him.

It gave the boy a little hope, but not much.

The sandles were simple, but they fit well, reminding him of the ones he had back in the palace.

Lucius gently smelled one, they smelled like sun-hardened leather, and a slight tinge of sandalwood and Lavender.

Also, they smelled like someone's awful feet.

Joy.

Lucius took the brass slave bracelet and turned it over in his hands.

If he put this on, it would mark him as a slave, and he wouldn't ever be able to get it off.

He hesitated slightly, but the slave came back and slapped the bracelet on his arm, locking it on.

His fate was sealed.

* * *

Later, when he was being led by the guard to go back to the prison cell with the other slaves, Lucius got an idea.

Now was his perfect chance to escape, there was only one guard, and it would be perfect.

The guard obviously thought that he was no threat since he was leading him, not following him.

Lucius let him get about five paces ahead, then took off running back the way they had come.

The guard didn't even see, but if he had, he would have seen the victorious smirk on the roman boy's face.

Lucius though he had it pretty good until he realized he was lost, WAY lost, in his haste, he hadn't checked to see if he was re-tracing their footsteps and now he was stuck at a dead end.

He turned around to go back the way he came, but heard shouts from down the corridor. quickly, he hid in one of the doorways leading off the hall.

A band of guards came around the corner.

"He can't be down here, there's only a dead end!" one of them cried.

"We'll find him wherever he is" another replied.

The guards disbanded and ran off.

Lucius let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, and started running back down the hall, meaning to turn the OPPOSITE way the guards had gone.

He only got about ten steps when he crashed into something large.

Lucius sprawled on the ground, and looked up at the offending object.

"So what have we here?" the guard asked.

"Our little Roman escapee" his companion answered.

Lucius didn't like the sound of the men's voices, and started scuttling back the way he came.

The guards just stood and laughed at him. Why weren't they giving chase?

His back hit the earthen wall.

The dead end.

He was trapped.

Lucius tried the doorway he had hidden in earlier, but it was locked from the other side.

The guards started advancing, and Lucius could almost see the threats and torture they had lined up for him.

He gulped.

He, Lucius Verus, was officially dead.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

Lucius started to sweat profusely as he was dragged through the underground corridors.

Somewhere nearby, he could hear bellows working. What on earth would they need bellows for? It was hotter than Hades here, and-oh.

They did have to eat.

That explained the need for fires.

And they liked to bathe.

There were more uses for a fire.

Lucius was taken into a chamber of sorts and laid on a stone slab.

There were all sorts of torture devices on the walls: Thumb screws, Branding irons, Steel traps, Whips, Axes, and ore things that he didn't want to know about.

He vaguely wondered what they would use a steel trap for, then decided it probably was better that he didn't know.

Lucius' arms were put above his head by what must have been the overseer, and latched with rusty chains, causing him to squirm uncomfortably.

"Quit moving" the beefy overseer said as he lurched over to the wall, grabbing another set of chains and fastening them to his legs.

The oversized man chose which weapon he wanted, a rusty branding iron and walked over to the fire.

'_Another use for fire'_ Lucius thought.

The boy watched as the iron slowly heated up, become white hot.

Then, he gulped, realizing that the flaming brand would be used on him.

The overseer lurched back his way, grinning at him and showing almost black teeth.

Lucius tried to shrink away, but the chains held him in place.

Then, the brand touched the sensitive skin of his chest, and he felt pain that he had never experienced before.

Lucius screamed, thrashing and flailing.

Then, the brand was taken off, making Lucius gasp in relief.

The overseer grinned, then put the brand back in the fire, Then pressed it his skin twice more, then hung it back on the wall, and took another out.

"This is Macoro's seal, you'd do well to memorize it, bug"

Lucius nodded, trying to see the red-hot brand from under his bangs, sweat and tears.

Then, it was placed on his chest, making him scream in agony again.

When it was taken away, Lucius looked down to see what looked like a Snake wrapped around some sort of a jewel, but the tears were blurring his face so much that it could have been a panda, and he wouldn't have been able to tell.

The guards and Overseer exited and locked the door, leaving Lucius behind, still chained to the marble slab.

Hours later, the guards came back.

Lucius was delirious from lack of water and food, half unconscious.

They threw a bucket of cold water on him, causing his mind to snap out of the delusion he was having.

He gulped in as much as he could, relishing the feel of it on his parched throat and burned body.

Then, Lucius was unchained from the slab and pulled to his feet.

They expected him to walk?

Lucius tried to take a step, but fell on his face, bruising his chin and forehead.

_Right._

He still had chains on his legs.

It was really smart to try and walk in those.

Lucius could hear the Guards' loud laughter echoing through the room.

Still laughing, the guards picked him up by his arms and dragged him down the halls, slowly climbing higher until they came out into a large room.

At least, Lucius thought it was large, his head was hanging down, so all he could see was the Marble floor, flecked with gold leaf.

Lucius almost fell asleep with the rhythmic rocking of the guards steps, but he was jarred awake by hitting the floor.

Hard.

He looked up, and saw a golden throne with someone perched on it like a peacock.

He heard one of the guards say somethings to the figure, but his ears seemed to not work properly, the voices sounding far away, almost like being underwater.

Lucius heard the person on the throne say something back to the guard.

He should know who this was...

It was swimming around his brain like a lazy fish, but he could only just watch it go by...

Then, he was being carried again.

He was taken in another room, and laid on a table.

Then, something cool was being laid on his skin, someone was cleansing his burns.

It felt good, and soon Lucius was asleep.

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	5. Chapter 5

When Lucius woke up, the smell of perfume and rich food assaulted his nose, causing him to jerk awake.

His first thought was that he was back in Rome, but then he realized that the air was too hot for Rome, and no one he knew of liked the smell of apples.

He swung his long legs off the edge of the marble slab he was on and hopped off, studying the room.

He was in an open room, facing a large throne and some steps.

Right now, the grand hall was deserted, the only thing moving was the incense burning in the corner.

On another table, there was a large feast set out.

Lucius' mouth watered, but he knew that the feast masn't meant for him and he shouldn't touch it.

His stomach rumbled, having not been fed in some time.

He stretched, noticing that he had been given a bath, his shoulder length hair wasn't stained with blood, sweat and who knew what else.

Then, two female slaves stepped in the door, carrying between them a chair.

Lucius couldn't help it, his eyes meandered over their scantily clad frames.

Their costumes certainly left nothing to be imagined, tight brassiers and shawls decorated lavishly with beads and mirrors that flashed in the mid afternoon light.

One was taller, with brown hair made into little braids and held up with a gold band, her costume was a deep purple.

The other was shorter, blonde, and her hair was tied up. Her costume was less decorated, a pretty blue the color of her eyes.

They set the chair down at the head of the banquet table, then stood by the wall.

Macoro walked in, and Lucius bowed his head respectfully, knowing that if he didn't, it would mean another lashing.

At first Macoro ignored him, walking over to a table and sitting in the chair the girls had brought in, putting food on a gold plate.

"Sit" He said in between bites, and Lucius warily sat in the only other chair.

"You may eat" Macoro said abruptly, studying a pear.

Lucius successfully kept himself from leaping at the food, and picked up a leg of meat and some fruit, eating it quickly.

Macoro watched him for a while, then stood, and walked over to one of the veiled windows cut into the side of the palace, looking out into the market.

"You know, I have been watching you for some time" He said, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Lucius was unsure of what to say, so he kept eating, eyes fixed on Macoro.

"I must say boy, you certainly have some spirit"

What was Macoro doing?

This was most out of character, even for him.

"I have been thinking hard on the matter, and I would like you to become my personal servant"

Now Lucius was really confused.

Personal servant?

Where had all this come from?

As Lucius continued his internal ramble, Macoro watched him carefully.

This boy had potential...

He looked fairly strong, not a large amount of muscle, but that could be remedied very quickly.

Macoro clapped his hands, and the brunette slave came in.

Lucius was still thinking hard when he felt small hands pulling him out of the chair.

"Come with me" The slave said in her heavy Arab accent, and Lucius felt himself being pulled through a small door into a dark hallway.

If he had been able to look back, he would have seen Macoro watching him thoughtfully.

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	6. Chapter 6

The female slave led Lucius through another maze of corridors, then down a staircase.

They walked for a slight bit longer, then she stopped in front of a door looking more like a cell than a room.

She pulled some keys from a pouch at her waist and opened the door. She ushering Lucius in, then left, shutting the door and locking it behind her.

Lucius studied his surroundings in the faint light.

There was a small barred window at the top, which let in some moonlight, just enough to see by.

Inside was a small cot, a bucket of water, and a candle.

Not much, but it was home.

Lucius flopped down on the cot, and was asleep almost immediately.

Then, the dream came.

Lucius was walking through clouds of a deep orange, his eyes fixed on the horizon before him.

Around him, the clouds billowed, reflecting onto his skin with their auburn tints.

"Going somewhere?"

Lucius turned, looking for the source of the voice.

"Who's there?"

"I am a Hero, fallen in the past, I have come to guide your way"

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Where are you?"

"Here"

A tall figure stepped out of a wall of clouds, his armor glinting in the light.

Lucius recognized him immediately, not by the insignia on his chestplate, but by his eyes.

He had seen those eyes once, in a prison...Such a long time ago.

"Maximus" Lucius said, bowing in respect.

Maximus rested a hand on his head, and Lucius looked up into the bright blue eyes.

"You have many trials before you, little one. You must stay strong"

"What will happen to me?"

"I cannot say, but know this; you will need every ounce of courage your heart can give you"

Maximus started to fade.

"No! Don't leave me!" Lucius called.

Maximus smiled.

"I will be with you. Always"

Then, he was gone.

Lucius stared at the rolling clouds in front of him.

What would happen that was so important that a dead gladiator had to warn him?

Then, a crack sounded through his dream, and he was falling through the clouds.

All he could see was black.

Then he woke up.

It took Lucius a minute to adjust to his surroundings.

He was in Macoro's palace, laying on his cot.

Orange clouds still reeled through his mind.

What did Maximus mean?

He pondered the Gladiator's words.

It felt like he was asleep again for only minutes before a guard came by and unlocked the door.

"Get up"

The guard threw a small wad of cloth in the cell.

Lucius unfolded it and found that it was a new loincloth, one of deep purple.

"Why the new color?"

"Because you're goin' to work for Macoro. Now get dressed, no dawdling"

Little did Lucius know, his trials had only just begun.

Every day, he was up at the dawn bell, eating a quick breakfast, then joining the other palace slaves for the day's work.

The first few days, all he had to do was participate in group activities, but as his experience grew, he was given harder tasks.

First thing, everyone would gather and scrub the stone floors to sparkling, then they would each go to their section.

The slave's sections were their areas where they stood ready for anything they needed to be done.

If Macoro was in the courtyard and required something, a servant would be ready to provide it, same if he was in any part of the palace.

Lucius was posted in one of the lesser populated ares to begin with, but he rose quickly, and soon was given Macoro's private study to attend to.

Lucius didn't exactly enjoy his life at Macoro's palace, but it wasn't cruel to him either.

Every night, he was so exhausted by the days events that he fell into his cot and was instantly asleep.

Time flew, and soon it was summer, and the sandstorms started to died down.

That meant Gladiator season.

There were matches all year round, but they were often cancelled in the winter months because severe winds would blow in from the coast, whipping up ferocious sandstorms that could bury houses in a single night.

Lucius heard about the celebration from the other servants.

They would be given the day off, and would be free to mingle with the village folk in the festivities known as the Blood Days.

There would be food, vendors, acrobats, and a parade that would go from the palace, where it would pick up Macoro, all the way to the arena, which was about a mile out of town.

The notion of trying to escape had run through Lucius' mind several times, but he had decided against it.

Even though the work was hard, he was content.

Sure he missed his mother, but she was probably dead by now anyways. he had overheard some of the other servants talking about how Rome was crumbling.

Here he had good lodgings, good food, and he wasn't doing the grunt work of the underground slaves. It wasn't the life he was supposed to have, but it wasn't very far off.

He would go to the festival with the others, it seemed like the thing to do.

He had seen the Gladiator fights in Rome, but those were probably more formal.

The thought of the fights grabbed his curiosity like a desert hawk catching it's prey.

He seldom thought of much else in the days leading up to the event.

...

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	7. Chapter 7

Lucius stood overlooking the Gladiator's pit on Macoro's private balcony. While not the fanciest arena he had ever been in, Lucius noted that it was well taken care of.

Around him, the fierce energy buzzing from the excited crowd was almost overwhelming. To his right were gathered the semi-important people of Macoro's court, and to his right was Macoro and his entourage.

The heat was unbearable and the sun was merciless, but Lucius hardly noticed, the adrenaline rushing through him. He could remember the very first match he attended in Rome... the blood spattering against the sand, the screams of agony echoing around the amphitheater, the endless jeers from the crowd.

The fight was due to start any minute, he could see the pot-bellied announced making his way to the box now...

The announcer finally reached the box after some difficulty, and opened his arms to the crowd, which went silent as soon as he moved.

"LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!" He yelled, saluting Macoro, who raised a hand in reply.

Slowly, the gates on either side of the pit opened. Lucius' eyes lit up in delight. He had the perfect view, the prey emerging on the left, and the attackers on the right.

The prey fighters walked out slowly, blinking as they stepped into the bright sunlight. The attackers however, rushed out brandishing their weapons.

They came together in the middle, the attackers slaughtering the prey in only a matter of minutes. The crowd booed at the quick fight, throwing vegetables and other refuse into the pit.

Macoro eyed the announcer meaningfully, and the portly man snapped out of the stupor he was in.

"That, ladies and gentlemen, was just something to wet your appetite. Now, we present the Axe against the Mace, the first in a three round bout to the finals!"

Macoro settled back into his seat, smiling at the satisfactory battle about to take place. The crowd seemed to agree with him, since their shouts had grown to a dull roar.

From the left, a brawny axe-wielder sauntered onto the field. The crowd's roar intensified. Obviously, he was a seasoned fighter and a crowd favorite.

From the right, a thin mace-holder stepped in. He was greeted with boos and jeers. The two ran until they met in the middle, hacking and stabbing where they could in their gory face-off.

In minutes, it was all over, the Axe-wielder raising the now bloodstained weapon over his head to the crowd's cheers.

The corpse was cleared, and the Axe-wielder lowered his weapon to a ready stance, watching a new door directly across from where Lucius was sitting.

The air was crackling with electricity, Lucius could barely sit still with anticipation and excitement.

Slowly, the metal gate cranked open, and for a moment, everything was still.

Then, in an explosion of noise from the crowd and in the pit, three men leapt out of the doorway, brandishing the tools of their trade.

There was another axe-wielder, a net and spear holder, and a broadsword and shield brandisher bringing up the rear.

Lucius' eyes flicked between the two parties, unable to hold his attention on just one. The champion axe-wielder tossed his head, inviting the other to attack.

This battle was longer, and the sun was slowly climbing higher and higher in the sky, beating down mercilessly on those below.

The crowd didn't seem to notice the searing heat, their only focus was the blood spraying high into the air, and the four souls trapped in the pit below.

One by one, the new attackers fell to the wrath of the axe. When the round was over, the blood spatters stained to floor of the pit. The cheers were almost deafening now.

"And now, the last round!" Then annoucer screamed.

The doors opened for a third time, and the crowd went silent, waiting for the next victim to step forward.

When the man finally did, he could hardly be called a victim. Standing at over seven feet tall, the giant stepped out of the gate, a giant war hammer slung over his shoulder.

The crowd for once stayed silent, whispers buzzing like bees. Who was this giant?

"For your finale, lords and ladies, the Axe against...THE NORSEMAN!"

For one split second, the crowd was completely silent, unsure of what to think. Then, the norseman stepped out of the gate, and the roar rose to a crescendo.

The Norseman stood at over 7 or 8 feet high, and was as wide as two men. In his hands he held a giant war hammer, the muscles in his arms bulging humongously. Lucius could feel his excitement shoot to a whole new level, if possible.

As he watched, the Norse giant swung his hammer, smashing it into the dirt floor with a resonating THUD. The Axeman stepped back, looking every bit the nervous prey. He zig-zagged to the side, biting in glancing blows with his axe wherever he could. These served just to aggravate the giant, causing the distance between the Axe fighter and the Giant hammer to lessen every time.

Then, the Norseman lost patience, running forwards to deal a crushing blow to that surely should have killed the Axeman where he stood. In a brilliant stroke of luck, the Axeman played his timing right, and the Axe's blade found it's target straight into the Giant's heart. The hammer fell to the ground, and the crowd sat in stunned silence.

When the people in the stands shook out of their stupor, Lucius included, the roaring and stamping of feet was almost unbearable.

Lucius stood even as the stands began to empty, and watched the last body be dragged away. It truly was a marvel, that a small man could best such a large one. Was there some sort of secret to these fights? Wit had to be a part of it, and the other had to be skill. But perhaps it was just luck?

A small mousy man began to edge towards Macoro, who was now being fanned by his slave girls.

"Pardon the interruption my illustrious lord, but I was wondering as to the money that may be owed to my person?"

"What of it?" Macoro countered, raising a displeased eyebrow. The mousy man looked like he needed a bath and a shave, Lucius could smell the stench of sweat and rotten cheese from his spot 10 feet away.

"I-I was wondering, since you owe me the money from the races, and now your bets from today, when I may be paid"

"You will be paid when it suits me" Macoro replied with an agitated tone.

"But, lord..."

"Silence!" Macoro snapped. He motioned for the man in his entourage that held the royal purse.

"Since you have been honest in how much you expect to get paid, I will pay you half"

"H-half?" The mouse-man choked.

"Yes, half. I think that's plenty" Macoro began to draw some coins from his purse.

"But lord, please. My Ostrich won fair-"

"Yes, but today was a swindle. That is why half is fair" Macoro was beginning to get annoyed at the man in front of him.

"I had no way of knowing that the axe would win, his odds were against him!"

"I suggest you take the price I have offered, or you shall find yourself in very unpleasant circumstances" Macoro said coldly. The mouse-man gulped and took the coins form Macoro's hand, scurrying away.

Lucius felt a small chill run down his spine. Macoro was capable of evil things, and obviously didn't like not getting his way. Lucius pitied anyone that defied him.


	8. Chapter 8

The time at Macoro's stretched on, and soon Lucius found himself accustomed to the workload. He no longer thought about home as much, even though every time Macoro entertained a traveler, he lingered by the door and took any task to hear the stranger's tales of Rome and beyond.

Also in his time as a servant, Lucius learned to induce certain people and avoid others. For example, he could always plead the slavegirls to give him an extra bite to eat, but he could only do it when Jator, their keeper wasn't around.

Jator was the meanest, sourest, african man Lucius had ever had the misfortune to meet, and Lucius had met quite a few. He constantly had his eye on Lucius when he was in the room, glaring at him with his one good eye like he was up to no good.

The other slaves passed stories around about Jator, late at night when they were all in their bunkers.

One of the other palace slaves had told Lucius that Jator had lost his left eye in a gladiator fight, long ago. He had been fighting an Arabian with a dagger, and the Arabian's final blow had been to slash Jator's face as his own innards spilled to the sand.

Lucius always listened to the older slaves' stories with rapt attention, later dreaming about them before he went to bed. He wanted to be like that... A great hero, just like Maximus. Someone that was both feared and worshipped.

Little did the boy know, his time would soon come.

* * *

On one exceptionally hot day, Lucius was called to bring a tray of exotic fruits to Macoro's throne room. Lucius did so willingly, since the cooler interior of Macoro's hall was the nicest place in the palace to be.

He carried the tray into the room, balancing it perfectly so the fruit wouldn't roll around and bruise. The inner throne room was delightfully cool and refreshing.

Since the hall was located within the center of the palace, the layers of thick stone encased it, blocking out the heat from the searing sun above.

Lucius entered through the servant's door to fin Macoro was in an audience with a rather portly trader who was sweating profusely as he cowered at Macoro's feet.

Lucius distractedly slid the tray of fruit onto the wood table in the center of the room, watching Macoro and the trader with great interest.

"I have told you, Habib. I have told you many times. You will not get any more of my trade route until you pay fifty percent of your total profit to me" Macoro said sternly, obviously annoyed and ready to be done.

Lucius recognized Habib, the cowering merchant. He was one of the more profitable traders in the market, and Macoro had bought him over recently. Obviously, the man wasn't accustomed to how Macoro ran things.

"B-b-but my l-lord..." Macoro's gaze drifted lazily to the tray of fruit as the trader before him babbled on.

"Alright, forty. No more. NOW, Get out of my sight! Macoro thundered, standing. The merchant realized he had lost, and retreated quickly, running right into the table and nearly crushing Lucius in his retreat.

The plate of fruit flew off the table, and suddenly, Lucius felt himself diving for it completely on reflex. Time seemed to slow down, and he could see every piece of the expensive fruit soaring down to the tiled floor.

Once it hit the ground, Macoro wouldn't touch it... Some servant down below would get it, bruised and dirty. He himself might even get it...

Lucius could just let it fall, he could be selfish.. OR, he could serve his master, and save the fruit.

Lucius made a split second decision.

In a move too fast to comprehend, Lucius caught the tray, shifting it at lightning speed so that every piece of fruit fell perfectly into place.

He straightened, setting the tray back on the table, trying to act like nothing happened. Lucius turned to see Macoro and Habib, completely frozen, staring at him in shock. Lucius looked down at his hands, flushing, equally as shocked.

For a moment, the Lucius and the two men just stared at each other, then Macoro broke the silence while narrowing his eyes.

"Lucius, go back to your room" He said quietly.

Lucius fled.

The Roman boy didn't stop running until he reached his room, shutting himself inside and sliding down the wall to calm his breathing.

What had happened was unreal... How in heaven's name had he done that?

Lucius played the scene over in his mind, then came to another realization.

Macoro had used his name...


	9. Chapter 9

When Lucius' roommate came in that night, his eyes darted around fearfully. Then he beckoned Lucius close.

"Is it true?" He whispered. Lucius looked at the older man quizzically.

"That you've been chosen.." Lucius frowned.

"What?"

The man leaned even closer, as if the walls had ears to hear what he would say next.

"That you will be taken to the Gladiator's pit"

Lucius' mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out.

"I-… Ah, what?" He stuttered.

"Master Macoro sent for the trainers this afternoon, and your name was mentioned several times" Lucius fell silent.

"You should run away while you still have the chance, my friend. No one ever returns from the pit… You know this" Lucius looked at the dirt floor.

"You know what would happen…" Lucius said quietly. Both slaves fell silent, remembering a fellow slave that had tried to escape a week ago. The palace guards had dragged him behind their horses all the way back to the palace, then proceeded to flog and execute the slave in front of the others as an example.

Lucius knew he couldn't escape without being caught by the palace guards, after all, if a full grown man couldn't get away into the desert, he certainly couldn't. Also, he didn't wish a repeat experience of the torture he had received the last time he had tried to get away.

That left him only one choice...

Death in the arena.

Lucius was ordered to stay in his quarters until the trainers sent for him, so he whiled away the days by carving designs into the wall with his blunt servants knife.

The first night of his confinement, his roommate didn't come in. Nor did he the next day, or night. Lucius asked the guard what had become of the man, but he got no reply.

Lucius wasn't sent for until three days had passed. Just when he was about to go out his mind with boredom, a guard came and bodily dragged him to the Throne room.

Lucius was thrown to the stone floor, his knees cracking painfully on the marble. He looked up through a haze of pain to see Macoro smirking gleefully. The guard retreated.

"I suppose you have already guessed why you are here?" Macoro asked with a tone of crafty amusement.

"Are the rumors true?" Lucius asked quietly, rising to his feet.

"Depends on what you have heard" The other man rubbed his chin thoughtfully, reminding Lucius of a cat that had cornered its prey.

"That I am to go to the arena? To my death, either by match or by training?" Lucius replied, his voice taking on the true fear of a frightened child.

"You are correct in the first assumption, but wrong on the second" Macoro said coldly, standing from his throne and stepping down the dais it sat upon. He proceeded over to one of the many windows, looking off towards where the flags of the arena waved in the breeze.

"You will train well, and fight even better. This much I am sure. You are young, yes… But that seems to have worked in your favor on other occasions, am I not right?" Lucius nodded, remembering the incident with the burly sailor on his trip over the Mediterranean.

"You will be moved to the arena in the morning, for now you will remain in your quarters. That is all" Macoro rattled off, waving his hand in Lucius' general direction. The guard that had escorted him returned, and Lucius was led back to his room. If the boy had been watching, he would have seen Macoro turn to watch him leave with a thoughtful look.

Indeed, Macoro's beady eyes watched as his slave was led out. Inside, his mind was working.

Surely, this boy had potential… He could be a legend.

If he survived the training.

The thought of survival was shared by both Lucius and Macoro that night. Only after a feverish several hours did Lucius finally drift to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

It seemed like only minutes had passed since he had fallen asleep when Lucius was gruffly awakened the next morning. As he stepped into the dark hallway, a sliver of dim light fell on the dirt floor, signifying that it was not long until dawn rose over the sands.

The arena guards, different from palace guards by their attire, took him outside through a passageway. A small chariot pulled by a single horse stood waiting. Lucius was pulled on by one of the two guards, and they were off.

Lucius was pulled up to the formidable stone building that was the training grounds and quarters. On the other side of this, he could barely see the flags of the arena blowing in the early morning breeze. He blinked sleep out of his eyes and followed the guards to a doorway.

The taller of the two guards rapped in sequence on the door and seconds later it was pulled open for him. The other guard shoved Lucius through into a dark tunnel leading down into the subterranean levels of the barracks.

When finally deposited in his private barrack, Lucius expected another Gladiator to be shoved in with him, but nearly danced in joy when say that he had the medium sized room all to himself.

On the bed were his new set of clothes; a tan tunic, brown breeches, and a leather belt. Lucius shed his old purple loincloth, and realized he had nearly forgotten how to wear a tunic, he had been so long without. The purple loincloth had practically become another layer of skin since he had become a slave.

The door swung open just as he finished changing into the loose garments, and a fat man dressed in a sweat-stained toga swept in, his lips already stuck in a curling sneer.

"I am your Lanista, Gallus. While you are here, and pray that your time is short, I will be preparing you to fight and die in the arena. Training begins when the horn is rung. I will see to it that you are fetched" With that, the ugly man turned on his heel and walked out.

Lucius slowly sat on his bed, stomach sinking. Things were going to be different in this place, he could feel it.

* * *

The horn came sooner that Lucius expected, and right on cue his door opened, revealing a guard. Lucius rose from his bed, following the armored man silently. They passed through the various dark hallways, different from the first time through only by the now lit torches at various intervals.

The ground began to rise, and soon Lucius and the guard stepped out into the dawn. Looking around, Lucius saw more slaves in similar garb to his beginning to mill about.

To his left, high in the air, the flags of the arena flapped in the slight breeze kicking up from the dunes. All around, a large stone wall enclosed the slaves in a long courtyard. On top of the wall stood a good many guards, all armed with bows and long daggers.

"You're the new whelp everyone's talking about" A gruff voice came from somewhere behind Lucius. He turned on his heel to see a grizzled old man sitting on a stool in the shadow of the wall. An eye patch covered what was once his right eye, and Lucius noticed several teeth missing when the old man grinned.

"Mind your business, old man" Lucius replied, trying to sound tough, but his voice came out in a barely audible squeak.

"Suit yourself, boy" The old man replied, pulling out a small knife and beginning to clean under his fingernails with it. Lucius tried to turn away, but something about the old man pique his curiosity.

"How long have you been here?" Lucius asked softly, realizing as he took a quick glance around that he was frightened.

"Lost track of the years" The old man replied, spitting into the sand. When he looked up to meet Lucius' gaze, he saw many emotions swirling in the old man's stare. The two held eye contact for a moment, then the old man raised his right hand in a fist.

Lucius blinked at the old man's gesture, and old Roman tradition he had been taught since infancy. Slowly, he returned the gesture.

"Aye, I know a fellow Roman when I see one" The old man said with a lop sided smirk. "M'name's Arus. I've been here longer than all of them-" He paused to sweep a scarred arm around the courtyard. "-Will ever hope to be"

Lucius bowed his head in respect.

"Listen well, boy. Following your instincts will keep you alive longer than any of the training these fops will try to give you" Lucius nodded, feeling to panic begin to set in again.

Arus looked like he would say more, but the horn sounded for a second time, cutting him off. The last of the trainees filed in, and the doors to the exits began to creak shut. Arus stood, brushing roughly past Lucius.

"Listen to the sword, and the sword will listen to you" The Gladiator growled.

The doors shut with an ominous crash, sealing them all in.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucius' head spun as the ominous crash of the closing gates silenced the entire courtyard. The men around him shifted nervously, their chatter slowly dying away. Above their heads, several vultures flapped over from the arena to settle on the walls, croaking ominously as they watched the men below.

A rattling sound echoed across the yard as the main portcullis opened and several guards carrying piles of wooden staves walked in, followed by none other than Jator, who was in turn followed by Macoro's litter.

Lucius gulped as his heartbeat began to speed up. He pressed himself back against the wall of the courtyard, feeling the rough brick cut into his back through his tunic. It was still cold from being in the shade, and it chilled him.

The men pressed towards the guards with the staves, nudging Lucius along with them. He tried to resist, but ended up falling on his face, getting stepped on repeatedly.

"EY!" Lucius heard, then felt himself being pulled up by the scruff of his tunic and clouted across the left ear. He looked up to see Arus glaring at him.

"On your feet, BOY!" Arus yelled. He dropped Lucius on his feet and thrust a wooden staff into his hands.

"First lesson." Arus said, raising his own staff up to an attack position. "Unless you're dead... Never fall to the ground!" The older man lunged, jabbing Lucius in the chest. Lucius stumbled back, tears springing to his eyes.

As Arus brought his staff up again, Lucius took a frantic look around. The other pairs were doing similar drills, taking turns attacking each other with the staves.

"Second lesson." Arus continued. "Never let your eyes off the person you're fighting!" He lunged again, and Lucius tried to clumsily sidestep, but the staff threw him off balance, and Arus' weapon cracked him over the head.

"Pathetic." Arus growled, shaking his head. "Absolutely pathetic."

Snickers erupted from the pairs around them. One tall soldier to Arus' right leaned over and said something in greek, which must have insulted the old man, because he frowned and used his staff to cleanly sweep the other man's feet out from under him.

The other men laughed and began to talk more in greek, pointing at Lucius. Arus laughed, leaning on his staff and replying.

Lucius flushed as he recognized some of the phrases, meant to insult him. He clenched his staff in his hands.

"They say you won't last the week, boy." Arus said in latin so Lucius could understand better. "I personally agree. They made a mistake sending a child here to be buzzard fodder."

Lucius' anger grow. If Arus didn't think him a worthy opponent, he would at least give him something to feel in the morning.

Shifting his weight ever so slightly, Lucius widened his stance. He felt the weight of the staff in his hands, shifting his grip. When Arus turned his head to look at an african behind him, Lucius lunged forwards and struck.

The staff arced perfectly, cracking down right on the old man's skull and echoing around the courtyard. Everything froze.

"Now you've done it..." A man said somewhere.

Arus turned back to Lucius, his face completely expressionless. Lucius tried to swallow his fear.

Then, Arus began to laugh.

"Well done, boy. Threw my lessons back in my face, didn't you?" He said, slapping Lucius on the back. The men around them began to laugh, also clapping Lucius on the back.

"What's all this?" A new voice said. Lucius gulped as Jator stepped through the men, grinning evilly.

"My, my. The palace brat hit the old man. You're losing your touch..."

"Lay off. The boy was learning a lesson." Arus growled, seemingly unintimidated by Jator's mass. Jator turned and hit the old man across the face.

"For your cheek, old man. You may be the master's favorite, but I think you're a little too comfortable with where your head is."

"Are you saying that I should get my head out of my ass one of these days? Impossible, the last fight wedged it there." Arus laughed loudly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"I'm saying your head should roll in the sand the next fight." Jator growled. The ugly look on his face showed he would have loved nothing better than to stab Arus repeatedly.

"Ah, well... Maybe you'll get your wish one of these days. The gods work in mysterious ways." Arus said, turning around and walking away from Jator.

The large guards' lip curled, then he lashed out, hitting Lucius across the face. Caught off balance, he dropped like a stone. This time there was little laughter from the men.

"Perhaps you should go back to the palace, boy. I hear they have an opening in the pigpens." Jator growled.

"They only have an opening because you were so blind as to spit the pigboy instead of a pig." Lucius replied, glaring from his spot in the dirt. Before he knew it, Jator's sword had arced down an inch from his left ear, burying itself in the ground.

"Is that a challenge?" Jator asked, a wicked grin on his face.

Lucius gulped.


	12. Chapter 12

"IS THAT A CHALLENGE?" Jator repeated, spraying Lucius' prone form with saliva.

Lucius kept his eyes down, mind racing as fear threatened to overwhelm him.

Either decision led to death for him... So now the question was... How to die? Would he die in this little courtyard, crushed underfoot and forgotten? Or would he challenge and be remembered?

What would Maximus have done?

Lucius' thoughts drifted back to the dream, and calm instantly overcame his rising fear. Maximus would have fought.

Boos and jeers erupted from the men as Jator egged them on.

"Little dog has the brains to bark, but not the balls to have his guts spilled..." He laughed, the men laughing with him.

"Wrong." Came a voice that instantly silenced the entire yard. Heads turned to the gateway, where Macoro's previously unnoticed litter had been set down for the lord to stand upon. Macoro fixed Lucius in his stern gaze, waiting. The entire yard held its breath for Lucius' reply.

"I-I..." He stuttered, fear racing over him once more. Jator's grin widened, showing rotten and missing teeth.

_"Stand up! Now is your chance!" _A voice from his dreams sounded in his head.

Lucius stood, wiping his face. He suddenly launched himself at Jator, and in one colossal leap, grappled onto the bigger man's neck, swinging around his head and using Lucius' body weight to bring him down into a headlock.

The entire courtyard took a collective breath, stunned.

"I challenge." Lucius growled.

Cheers erupted from all the men, and they surged on Lucius as Jator pushed himself out of the headlock, furious.

Lucius found his eyes drawn to Macoro's over the crowd. Macoro nodded once in acknowledgement, then sat down and ordered the litter out of the yard. It went unnoticed by anyone by Lucius.

"ENOUGH!" Jator yelled, barely silencing the crowd. He fought his way over to Lucius, and Lucius was pleased to see that someone had elbowed him in the lip. It was swelling pleasantly.

"Luckily for you, little rat, the next fight day is more than a month away because of the storms. You will have time to prepare. But that will not matter because I. Will. Best. You." Jator growled between clenched teeth, blood from his cut lip dribbling down his chin.

Lucius glared, then turned away.

Anger crossed his face, and Jator ran at Lucius with his sword raised, but was intercepted by Arus' wooden stave. Arus cooly deflected the attack.

"You know the rules, Jator. No attacking the challenger until the fight. That includes training and disclipline."

Jator colored as much as was easily seen in dark skin. Arus was right.

"I don't need you quoting me the rules, old man." He seethed, picking up his sword and storming away just as the meal bell rang.

"Well done, boy." Arus growled as Lucius passed him on the way to the meal. Lucius wanted to say something else to the man, but Arus was gone before he could think of anything. Lucius shrugged it off and quickly joined in the singing and raucous laughter of the meal.

* * *

That night, after he had shucked off his tunic and lay down in his bunk, Lucius ran the day back through his mind.

What on earth had he been thinking? He attacked a guard in front of Macoro. It could have gone drastically wrong, and yet it didn't. Macoro's interception on his part was puzzling. Why was Lucius suddenly shown mercy now, of all times?

Lucius sighed. The gods worked in mysterious ways. Years ago, he had been a prince... Now he was a slave.

Lucius tried to remember what Rome had been like. He tried to remember his mother. Nothing. His memory had eroded away like sand scours stone. All he knew now was of his life as a slave, and even the beginning of that was growing hazy.

Lucius sighed once more. The years had not been kind to him, so why should he grace them with remembrance? How old was he now? Nine? Twelve? Sixteen? Twenty? He felt old, but not old enough.

Would would his life have been like if things hadn't changed? Would he still be living in the palace with his mother? Would he have married? Would he have given up earthly possessions and joined a league of scholars or priests?

There were too many what ifs, Lucius decided as he rolled over and wished sleep would take him soon. His death was rapidly approaching, and he wasted his time with pitiful recollections of the past.

That wasn't warrior-like at all.

Lucius rolled over again, unable to be comfortable.

After a moment, a puzzling thought crept into his mind.

Given the choice, would he take his freedom? What would he do with himself?

Lucius wasn't naive enough to think he would be given the throne in Athens if he just politely asked for it, nor was he sure he wanted that life.

Would he get work in a city? Build or sell things? Take a wife?

There were, again, too many what ifs. That was the simple thing about slavery. What you did in your life was dictated by someone else. Sure, it was backbreaking labor, but it worked.

Lucius let out the biggest sigh of them all and thunked his head on his bed. Too much thinking. Best to go to sleep now, and wake up ready to fight in the morning.

Lucius didn't feel like he wanted to fight the next morning, but slept anyways.


End file.
